They have turned into night mares. I wake up and am relieved that they are nightmares and not actually real. One dream involved me being responsible for 10 patients on the floor. Family members kept coming up to me asking 10,000 questions, all of which I didn't now the answer for. I was running around doing this and that. I was utterly unhappy. I woke up with my heart racing. When I realized that the horror of a job like this is over I smiled.
I am so relieved that I don't have to deal with IV pumps, screaming alcoholics, old people with dementia climbing out of bed, needy, mean family members, passing meds around the clock, doctors who never return calls or having to call a doctor and being screamed at, the stinky smell of urine when I walk onto the floor, giving report to mean nurses, fresh op patients, ICU patients who should have spent another week in the unit but who come to my floor only to return to the ICU 8 hours later, lifting 300+ patients up in the bed and hurting my back, walking up and down a long hall for 12 hours with no break, being a waitress and passing ice, snacks, etc to patients and their lazy family members. The list goes on and on. I'm done. That fact has not quite hit me yet. I keep thinking that on Friday I'll have to go back to that hell hole and do it all over again.
I don't. I quit that job. I don't have to go back there ever again. I'm not a med surg nurse anymore. I'm a public health nurse.
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